Jasper's Story
by AgentofChaos23
Summary: In extensive detail, from before joining the army to when he moves in with the Cullens: this is Jasper's Story. It will probably be the first of several back stories I will write for the more underdeveloped Cullen characters. I hope you enjoy it.
1. The beginning

**. Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my interpretation, characters and story belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Hokay! So…a few things: 1. This is my first fic so reviews are much appreciated. 2. I don't really know how the site works yet so a few mistakes now and then are to be expected apologizes for the single-space. 3. Yeah, I know chapter one is in third person and the preface is in first person—I just wrote what felt natural…I haven't decided yet what the format of the next chapters will be…yeah I think that's it…**

Preface:

They viewed me as if I was a slave at auction—surely I was not on their level. No, more accurately, they appraised me like cattle. I was no more than food—a piece of meat, although I'm almost positive that held true for one of the blondes in a more metaphorical sense. I usually have too much pride to take being viewed as an object lightly, but I was too preoccupied with their otherworldly beauty to be incredibly offended.

There were three of them—these creatures, no…_monsters_ that I would soon mimic in both looks and violent tendencies. Of course, war was by no means limited to such creatures, as my Confederate uniform blatantly indicated.

Their intentions did not register on a conscious level; understand I was not a mind reader. However, I _could_ tell that danger was imminent—their eyes sending chills up my spine as I stood still, their alien looks rooting me to the spot as I stared, captivated by their appearances.

While I could not bring myself to move, I studied their gazes. The two blondes communicated purely carnal desires, the strongest of which was hunger. They looked at me like I was _food_. This unnerved me so I looked to the smaller, brunette who was appraising me in an entirely different way.

Her gaze, almost calculating in nature, was something I was used to. It was pure business, it was military. This woman, as unusual a concept as it was for me, was a fighter. And who understood war better than a Confederate officer? Her obvious fondness for me at first glance was flattering to be sure. That, combined with my overwhelming curiosity, offset my natural instinct to flee. Their pale countenances likened them, in my mind, more to that of ghosts (who were supposedly to a large extent benign) than _vampires. _It put me off my guard, not that I would have stood a chance.

Chapter 1:

"Jasper Whitlock!" The elderly woman stood with one flour-covered hand on her right hip, brandishing a wooden rolling pin in her left hand which she was now using to imitate a wagging finger as she addressed the muscular, but lean young man who had his back to her and was in the process of trying to make a subtle escape.

The honey-blonde haired youth turned around and faced the woman with a guilty smirk, "Sorry, ma'am?" he shrugged, not yet knowing what he was to be accused of but knowing that it was inevitable when he interacted with his grandmother. Beneath her tough exterior, she was a woman who harbored an extreme love for Jasper. She was the one who raised him, after all. His mother was alive, but inept; and his father was always out working before he had died for the Confederate cause, of which Jasper was determined to join and prove himself.

"I was in town today, buying ingredients and whatnot," she glared at him and Jasper sighed, backing away from the door to settle down in the old armchair, which was in clear need of refurbishing. He gave her look that seemed to say "Is there anything else you require as to proceed without distraction?"

She seemed appeased and continued her story, "Well like I said, I was in town today, and who should I meet up with but Mrs. Grant…" Jasper groaned. Mrs. Grant was the mother of William Grant, Jasper's companion as of late. William was famous for his loose lips and it had only been the day before that seventeen year old Jasper had conspired with him about possibly faking their age and enlisting. Mrs. Whitlock was a known, vocal opponent of violence, even more so since the death of her only son.

Mrs. Whitlock was scowling but upon seeing Jasper's resigned face, her expression softened. She looked close to tears. "Are you _really_ going to go join that awful war?" When Jasper avoided her gaze, she really did start to cry. "But…you're just a _baby_."

"I'm seventeen, ma'am. That's old enough to start making my own decisions." Jasper was grim. He was not a proponent of slavery. In truth it seemed to him to be a terrible but unavoidable fact of life. However, Jasper _was_ a good ol' southern boy from Texas. He put his family and community above all else. He needed to fight against the naïvely idealistic north who threatened his mother and grandmothers' way of life, stole his father from him, and who in their quest to save humanity and preserve the union were massacring villages nearby. It was true. He had heard it at church. This war was the perfect chance to prove that he was a man and that he was ready for the challenges that would lie ahead.

"You're going to get _killed_, just like your father…you'll never come back," she sobbed.

Jasper flashed her a reassuring smile, "I plan to stick around for a very, very long time. The world can't get rid of me so easily." Usually he had a calming effect on people when he wanted to, call it charisma, but his grandmother was taking this particularly hard. When it became obvious that his grandmother could not be consoled, he sighed and left the bakery that doubled as his childhood home to go meet up with William Grant.

William was short and pudgy with unruly dark brown hair. He was a sniveling coward and a blundering buffoon—Jasper's opposite in almost every way. Regardless, he was the only young man about his age left in the town that hadn't yet joined the army. Thus he was Jasper's, who had an inexplicable affinity and need for people, constant companion.

William was dozing under a tree near the church when Jasper walked up to him and nudged him awake with the toe of his boot. William awoke in one spastic, clumsy motion. After spluttering various profanities and incoherencies, he shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and looked up at Jasper with a scowl, "What the hell, man?"

"You were supposed to meet me in the field an hour ago." Jasper stated with mild irritation.

"Oh right. Sorry, friend, I was just catching up on some sleep."

"Rough night?"

"Always." William winked at Jasper as if to say, you know how it is, you ladies' man, you. But Jasper, who didn't know how it was and was fairly sure William didn't either, was not amused. He extended his arm to help William up, who gladly took it and hoisted his fat off the grass. "What about you, eh? Although, I suppose your 'keeper' wouldn't want you staying out too late. How is the old crow?"

Jasper was making a mental list of all his grievances against this man so that at the proper time he could justifiably shoot him in the face. "My _grandmother_ does not make me do anything against my will. She only wants what's best for me…unfortunately; I did not leave her in the best of spirits," understatement of the year, notwithstanding, "and I resent the old crow comment. She is lovely woman if you really get to know her."

William waved his hand, dismissively, "she's a woman. The more you get to know them, the less lovely they seem. No exceptions." Sensing the danger of pursuing this line of conversation William abruptly changed the subject, "So I take it she didn't take the news well, then?"

"Well she wouldn't have had to take the news at all, had _someone_ kept his fat mouth shut." Jasper was past being pleasant at this point.

William, who was also a liar, albeit a terrible one, feigned being taken aback, "I thought we were above such childish accusations."

"No, "tattle-tale" would be a childish accusation. I'd say you're a fiend who disturbs the peace of mind of little old ladies." Jasper's anger seemed to be radiating into William as his face began to turn red.

"At least I don't have foolish ideas of honor and glory." William spat at Jasper's feet.

Jasper looked disgusted. "Don't mistake cowardice for intelligence or duty for a misguided attempt at making a name for myself." Jasper shook his head. He was surer now than ever. He could _not_ leave the fate of the South in the hands of others, when all others seemed to do was let him down. It was this, more than anything else that led him to walk fifteen miles to the town hall in the next town over.

"Name?" A rather bored looking middle-aged man with crooked glasses glanced at Jasper through tired eyes.

"Jasper Whitlock."

"Age?"

"Twenty." The man was not of a very skeptical sort, and even if he had been, Jasper's height and wizened face could have fooled just about anyone. Not to mention, they always needed more soldiers. The man looked Jasper up and down once, frowned, and then stamped a piece of paper.

"Welcome to the Confederate Army, son."


	2. A Soldier

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my interpretation. Characters and story belong to Stephenie Meyer.**

**Weeee. Okay so...chapter 2. One more thing I forgot to mention last time is that I can't possibly write in a proper Southern accent (sorry). I love accents but that's just not gonna happen and I don't want to screw it up in a way that would just be unfair to the characters and the South lol...so yeah just pretend they're using Southern accents. Oh yeah and LOL sorry I couldn't decide between first and third person..so i'm alternating..Idk hopefully (maybe?) it'll work out...I could always go back and rewrite the chapters if I don't like the way they flow.  
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**PLEASE REVIEW--I'm still writing now just because I really want to get it out there...but if like no one reviews then I'll think it's really bad and not finish it...so if you think it's decent just say so..idk and if you hate it that's fine too. I just want opinions so I can get better. GRACIAS.**

_My name is Jasper Whitlock and my life is about to begin. _It had been a few weeks since I enlisted and already I was needed. I had already broken the news to my grandmother so it didn't come as a shock to her when I announced I was leaving. Most people, when they are filled with emotion, have trouble looking me in the eye. My grandmother stared right at me, saw right through me, "Is it time, then?" She asked. It wasn't an accusation. She wasn't angry. No, I couldn't have imagined why she felt the way she did, but I perceived her strongest emotion right now was _pity_.

"It is," I looked her directly in the eyes; letting her absorb my honest intentions. My grandmother shared my affinity for empathy. She knew why I had to do this.

"You'd better come back in one piece," she busied herself with the day's baking, seemingly unperturbed. But I knew better.

"I'll be fine, grandmother. I promise I'll come back. You know I could never resist one of your pies." I gave her my sincerest smile. Upsetting my grandmother was not a priority. I loved her. In contrast, I didn't care at all for my worthless mother, who was at that moment most likely parading around with some strange man while she _should_ be in mourning. My father hadn't died that long ago and she acted like he never existed. It wasn't proper at all. I often wondered if my father left in the first place to escape from her paper-thin loyalty.

"I know. That's why I packed one for you. It's on the counter," she indicated the aforementioned counter with a tilt of the head. I smiled and thanked her, for everything, before kissing her cheek, grabbing the bundle that contained the pie and leaving the bakery and my home for what would be a long, long time.

--

_My name is Jasper Whitlock and my life is about to begin._ Like all lives, this new one was not to be without its share of exponential sin. That sin that supposedly weighed me down and would make heaven impossible without total subservience and repentance. Not that I was particularly religious. Of course, on the outside I was a good Christian. It just had to be that way. Quite frankly, I lived by by own guidelines and wasn't concerned with otherworldly consequences. I felt as though I would live forever. Death was not a concept I was closely acquainted with, with the exception of my father. I was soon to get to know Death a lot better. I'm getting ahead of myself. That comes later in my story.

--

_Are you a soldier?_ That was a question everyone seemed to ask, with appropriate inflection depending on the scenario, and that no one ever seemed to have a real answer to. "Are you a _soldier_, a pretty boy like you?" That was a common one from the ladies...not that it ever got them anywhere. Mostly because it, on some level, either implied I couldn't fight or that I would fight and die, and oh what a waste that would be. To be honest, my first commanding officer was sure I'd be dead within the first week of actual combat. He found me unimpressive to say the least.

"Are you a _soldier_? Boy, let me tell you something. This war isn't just about us. It can't be about _us_. It can't be about glory...because when the going gets rough--and it gets _very _rough--pretty boys like you who are only in it for the glory and war stories run and hide first chance they get. You tryin' to prove something? Let me give you some advice: you're not fooling anyone just by being here. You want to pretend you're not a waste of air? Stop smelling the flowers and show me you know how to operate your weapon," The officer said. Ever the charmer, he was elderly, but fit, with greying hair. He was always impressively attired.

He would come around, however, as I proved to be less inept than expected. In fact I soon proved my worth in more than just combat. I was a brilliant tactician and a charismatic leader who always seemed to be able to get large numbers of uneasy troops to rally behind my cause. I would quickly ascend through the ranks and become the youngest Major in the Confederate Army by the time I was twenty.

It was during those in between years, when I was making a name for myself in the army and trying to prove my worth that I realized something about myself. I had always pursued scholarly activities, while simultaneously being frustrated by their lack of relevance. In the military I found relevance. I absorbed lessons in strategy and battle formations like a sponge. I had found something that was necessary, and that I was _good_ at. Soon, protecting my family and avenging my father became little more than side benefits. My main focus was the fight itself. I _adored_ it. I lived, breathed, and shit war. I became obsessed with it, and the end result seemed no longer to matter. I began to live in the moment; leaving the idealistic goals to the politicians and religious leaders. My philosophy came to be: let the kings and queens play their games; what was there not to relish in being a pawn?

I kept these thoughts to myself, of course, lest I be thought of as cold. In truth, my fellow soldiers were nothing more to me than numbers in the military equation. I felt nothing for them. Why should our common humanity mark us as brothers? Weren't our Northern enemies and our slaves human beings as well? I thought those idealists to be utterly ridiculous in their notions of brotherhood and friendship. Everyone was in it for themselves and they banded with people with common goals...wasn't that the way it always was?

It was sort of ironic; that someone who had such an affinity for the emotions of others had so little feelings for anyone at all. It was remarkable, really, how much of a vampire I had already become in my view of the human species. I was a monster, through and through. This was during a time when killing men was under a guise of righteousness. I did not share the righteous sentiment of my fellow soldiers, and yet, this did not change the fact that I had never really known death in its truest, most intimate form: senseless murder. In war, death was calculated, death was logical and could be reasoned...my views regarding death would soon cease to be the cold, scientific lenses through which I saw the world and manipulated through the emotions of others; however, at the age of twenty I had not yet realized this. I remained immune to the pain of my fellow man. I continued to murder in the legal, self-justifying way that man has always murdered: war.

Are you a soldier? Are you a killer?


	3. Lovely LadiesCombustible Conversions

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my interpretation. Characters and story belong to Stephenie Meyer. Am I the only one who's listening to Decode by Paramore like nonstop? Idk...I just really like it. Ya k...so this chapter's going back to the third person format. I figure I'll just keep alternating and you get a look inside his head and all that good stuff...Oh...heads up. If you feel like brightening someone's day...I get one review and I spazz cuz im so happy--haha...take like 3 seconds and just let me know if it's worth continuing. Adios.**

Armies had decimated the area, leaving a scarred field littered with human bodies. The survivors had moved on to bigger battles and larger amounts of casualties, in order to reap what they hoped would be bigger spoils. The animals had since scattered, having sensed the approach of dangerous creatures. The three pale beauties gracefully maneuvered over the carelessly discarded shells--former harborers of human life. There were two blonds and a brunette--females frowning over the lack of useful materials to be had.

"What a waste," one of the blonds wrinkled her nose, her eyes red with thirst, "The humans didn't leave anything for us. Look at all this useless blood."

"That was quite rude of them," the other blond added, "Didn't anyone tell them you're always supposed to leave a place cleaner than you found it?"

"Quite true, that," the other frowned, "Maria," she addressed the petite, brown-haired Mexican who was their leader. Maria had stopped walking and was deep in thought. "Maria! I'm so thirsty--"

Maria's face contorted to display her irritation. "Nettie, I told you to eat when we came through town but _you_ were worried about getting caught."

"But--"

"It's not my problem," Maria frowned. "I'm behind schedule. Your choices have all been...less than desirable."

"Most disappointing," the second blond, who was called Lucy, conceded, as was her custom.

Maria turned to glare at her companions. "_I_ shall select the next one. Until then, we must continue our search." This elicited a groan from Nettie. "If we find a human along the way, you can have a snack. Until then, stop whining for God's sake." Maria's features transformed suddenly as if she realized what she had said and found it extremely funny. She began to cackle, "Of course...God's opinion doesn't really matter any more, does it? I shall get back what was taken from me, what is my right to have. I just hope you two aren't the ones I'll have at my disposal."

--

Major Whitlock leaned back in his hair, eyes closed, and rubbed his temples with his finger tips. It had been a stressful week, albeit a boring one. He needed some actual military action or he'd go out of his mind. And yet, he was positively _buried_ in paperwork. Jasper sighed and was about to turn his attention back on his pile of papers when an adolescent boy barged into his office. "Majpr Whitlock, sir?!" The boy saluted and came to attention.

"At ease, son," Jasper laughed, "you're not a soldier yet."

"I will be someday, sir! I eagerly await the day when I can join the ranks of men like yourself, sir!" The boy would not break his salute.

"I'm sure we'd be honored to have you," Jasper feigned seriousness when the boy beamed, "Future soldier, what news do you bring?"

The boy seemed startled for a moment, having forgotten the initial purpose for his visit. Then his eyes grew wide and he all but screamed, "THEY HAVE NEED OF YOUR MILITARY EXPERTISE, SIR! I HAVE A LETTER, SIR, FROM THE GENERAL."

Jasper thanked the boy (who seemed reluctant to leave and waited eagerly for Jasper to open the undoubtedly tide-turning piece of military strategy) and bid him good day. The boy's features fell, but then quickly exploded once more in a burst of passionate emotion once Jasper added his thanks for the boy's heroic efforts, "WAIT 'TIL I TELL EVERYONE I'M A HERO!" After his final outburst, the boy ran out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Jasper shook his head, his headache having been increased by the boy's hyperactive nature. Still, he could barely contain his enthusiasm as he shredded open the envelope, _at last,_ he thought, _a military venture in need of my skills._

_Major Whitlock: I trust in your ability to accomplish this task. It is required that you and a contingent of troops are to accompany women and children from Galveston to Houston to avoid Union mortar boats. Their safety is in your hands. _

Jasper read the letter over and frowned slightly. _Such a mundane request_, he thought, _still, it is better than no request at all. _Jasper immediately set to work, acquiring the necessary troops to accompany him and his charges to Galveston and then Houston, where they would eventually be stationed, while Jasper made the return trip to Galveston to await future orders.

--

The work was dull, yet gratifying. At least he had been contributing constructively to the war effort. The women and children certainly had appreciated it. The mission had gone successfully and Jasper was, at this time, making his way back to Galveston.

Okay, so Jasper was a _little_ bitter. Why couldn't they recognize him for his brilliance? Was it because he was so young? Jasper couldn't help but wish for a chance to partake in battles that would truly be a test of his strategic expertise.

Jasper was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the utter silence that stretched out before him. He heard a noise from behind him and turned his horse around, hand on his gun, but no one was there. There was only the pitch black night. Tensed, he turned back around and almost died right there from shock. There were three women, walking along the path. The flat road stretched on for a mile just until Galveston...there was no way Jasper could have missed them. Jasper was confused, but he wasn't going to let that get in the way of propriety. He quickly dismounted to offer them his aid; which he was positive three young women alone at night, far from town, during wartime would require.

When he got close enough they stopped. By the dim light of the moon, Jasper could see their faces and couldn't control his expression or his voice. They were the most beautiful women he had ever seen and Jasper could barely move, let alone offer them help. They were not lost members from his party. He would have remembered their distinctive looks. They looked like little porcelain dolls with their incredibly pale skin. They were so young, yet still old enough..._You idiot. Where are your manners? You've never seen a beautiful woman before? Be a man, god damn it all!_ Jasper was just about to reattempt speaking when one of them spoke.

"He's speechless," the one who he would come to know as Lucy said in a voice that reminded Jasper of wind chimes. She was taller than the other two.

Having not yet found a snack, Nettie was suffering from unbearable thirst. Her deceivingly angelic face half-closed her eyes and leaned toward Jasper, inhaling deeply and reveling in his delectable odor. "Mmm," she sighed, "lovely."

Maria put her hand on Nettie's arm, and commanded with irritation for her to concentrated. Jasper thought her voice too adorable for her to properly convey anger. Still, it was clear to him that this Maria was clearly in charge of the others. Outranked them, he would have said. Still, Jasper could not imagine how or why this one would be in charge. In charge of _what?_ She spoke once more, "He looks right--young, strong, an officer..." She paused and Jasper tried unsuccessfully to speak. She turned to the others, "There's something more...do you sense it? He's...compelling."

"Oh, yes," Nettie's eyes grew wide and she licked her lips, leaning in once more to inhale Jasper's scent. _Dear God, who are these women? They are like militaristic, cannibalistic _whores_! _He shuddered as Lucy gave him the once-over with her eyes and Maria appraised him contentedly.

Though her excitement was plain, Maria still kept her composure. "Patience," she cautioned Nettie, "I want to keep this one." Nettie frowned, annoyed. She was so very _thirsty_.

"You'd better do it, Maria," Lucy said, "If he's important to you. I kill them twice as often as I keep them."

"Yes, I'll do it. I really do like this one. Take Nettie away, will you? I don't want to have to protect my back while I'm trying to focus." Maria focused completely on Jasper who was _very_ confused. He sensed a tremendous danger...but from what? There were only these three, slightly deranged women. He was an armed soldier...raised to protect women not fear them.

"Let's hunt!" Nettie cried out enthusiastically. She yanked Lucy toward the city, gracefully, yet speedily, heading towards food.

Jasper stared at Maria who was watching him curiously. Suddenly it had dawned on him that these creatures' complexions...they were otherworldly. So pale...and so fast the others had been in their white dresses that looked like wings..._Ghosts_...Jasper thought. His eyes widening. He, who had never been superstitious, was ready to become a believer.

"What's your name, soldier?" Maria asked.

"Major Jasper Whitlock, ma'am," he managed to get out, refusing to be impolite...even if she _was _a ghost. Hell, that may have made propriety even more important. How should he know?

"I truly hope you survive, Jasper," she said gently. From what he saw of her interactions with the others, her now soothing voice was enough to let him know something wasn't right. "I have a good feeling about you." She took a step closer, inclining her head as if to kiss him. Everything about this situation screamed danger, every muscle in his body was urging to flee. But Jasper stood rooted to the spot, caught up in horror and fascination.

--

Her lips grazed my neck, sensually. I had involuntarily let my head tilt back, giving her more access. She flicked her tongue out and...did I just _moan_? I couldn't help myself...there was something incredibly erotic about the whole thing. I wasn't given long to enjoy it though because as soon as her teeth lightly grazed my pulse point she bit down. Hard.

I screamed in pain, trying to throw her off, but she was much too strong. It was so horrible. It was _excruciating_. I became weaker and weaker, and once she was satisfied she whispered "Good luck, handsome," in my ear. I fell to my knees. My neck was on fire. I was burning from the inside out. The fire spread throughout my entire body and I was consumed. I was positive I wouldn't last long. Surely I would die.

"GOD!" I screamed over and over, clutching my neck, where the pain was strongest. I felt no flames. What had she _done_ to me?

"It was questionable whether he was listening before, but I can assure you...God doesn't give a _fuck_ about you now," the vampire shouted. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or someone else, but I really didn't care at that moment. I was otherwise involved.

"Someone...please help," I whispered half-heartedly. That's when the fire reached my heart and everything went black.


	4. Welcome To My World

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything but my interpretation. Characters and story belong to Stephenie Meyer. XD I keep wondering why we have to write disclaimers on fanfiction. Obviously it's fanfiction...people KNOW it doesn't belong to us and that we're not the author...anyway yerr. Sorry...these past few weeks have been hell for me. Fanfiction was definately not one of my top priorities...I'm going to try to keep this up--so thanks for being patient (not that many people read this, but HEY, so what) Voila. Chapter 4. Enjoy.  
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_My heart_. I couldn't hear anything but my dry sobs. Tears wouldn't come anymore. My heart had stopped beating. _So this is what it is to die. _I had just regained consciousness, but my eyes were tight shut. All I could feel was the slowly subsiding flames. All I recognized was the fire. I could feel a huge thirst building up in my throat. My sense of time was warped, but sooner or later the thirst became unbearable. "It would seem I made it to hell after all. Is this to be my punishment for being a player in a game of death? A game reserved for God and God alone? Is this my punishment? Am I to be ever thirsty? Plagued by a thirst that will never be quenched, as I slowly burn and rot in darkness?"

"Can someone _please_ shut him up?" The voice startled me and prompted me to open my eyes. I didn't recognize my surroundings. It was like earth...I supposed it was earth. But everything was so much..._more. _I noticed every minute detail. My senses were overwhelmed by the unfamiliar spectrum of colors, the new range of sounds and smells. It was night time, but I could see everything so _clearly_. I sat up with a speed that threw off my balance. I braced myself and tried again. I successfully managed to get myself in an upright position and looked around in wonder. The voice that had spoken before began to laugh, "Look at his mouth! See how it hangs there so stupidly? Oh well...at least he's quiet. I'm trying to think! Since Maria doesn't want him moved I've had to listen ro his moaning and groaning for the past three days!" _Three days?!_ I turned in irritation and confusion to face this utterly rude creature. I was in a clearing. All the way on the other side sat a girl who I vaguely recognized as having accompanied the one who...With a start I realized that this person was an accomplice in my attempted murder. I reached for my gun and when I couldn't find it, I let out a loud snarl in her direction. _Wait. Did I just _growl_? _

"Such theatrics." I turned and another of the blonds was sitting behind me, her face in her hand, looking bored. "Nettie, since when did you _think_?"

"Shut up, Lucy. I was _thinking_ of asking Maria to let us in on some of the details on this whole dirty business," It suddenly donned on me that I shouldn't be able to hear her from this distance but I remained silent to watch their exchange.

"And this requires the utmost concentration, does it?" Lucy began tracing circles on her skin, which was unbelievably pale. These creatures looked even more inhuman than I had originally noted.

"Something you wanted to ask me, Nettie?" The monster who attacked me had just walked out of the trees. I couldn't remember what happened but I knew the last place I wanted to be was with these strange beings.

I was tensed to run when the monster called Nettie stuttered, "Oh n-nothing, Maria." Lucy sniggered and Nettie glared, "But you may want to take care of _him_." She tilted her head in my direction and I froze.

"Ah!" Maria's features lit up and she appeared right next to me. "Major Whitlock--you're awake!"

"It's questionable, " I said calmly. I was never one to lose my cool during a crisis. I became cold. Resolute.

She chucked, "It's like a dream, isn't it?" She gestured around her. "Your senses have been heightened exponentially. This is very exciting. We will begin training immediately after you hunt. ...Oh well...I'll trust you'll want a chance to explore your new abilities?"

"Frankly, ma'am, I'd rather have an explanation. _If you don't mind_," my words were biting. I had no patience for this woman. Who did she think she was? She thought she could almost kill me...turn me into some sort of monster...and then turn around and act as though I was supposed to be grateful? That I was just supposed to follow orders?

As if she had read my thoughts, she quickly composed herself. "Forgive me. You being a soldier, I guess I took your ability to follow orders for granted. I thought that maybe you'd be less prone to terror if I exhibited a more friendly countenance." The one called Lucy snorted but the leader ignored her. "I am Maria. These two are Lucy and Nettie, respectively. You have been chosen to join my army."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But it's not God's will that a Major in the Confederate Army be subjugated to a woman's whims," I bowed my head respectively, restraining myself, even though I was more than a little terrified. I knew this wasn't a traditional woman. Woman...hell, she may not have even been human. I wasn't entirely sure _I_ was human anymore.

Maria blinked a couple of times before throwing back her head in laughter. "You are _delightful_. I'm truly sorry, but you don't really have a choice. A smart boy like you...I'm sure you realize that I could kill you at any time. On that note, if you don't stop talking about _God_ I may have to kill you anyway...and wouldn't that be a waste?"

I shuddered at her casual tone and swallowed nervously. There was a silence as I pondered my predicament. Finally I looked up at her, this petite dark-haired woman who, believably, could kill me with her bare hands. I sighed, "Army of _what_, exactly?"

--

Maria proceeded to explain to me what I had become in full-blown righteous nut-job rhetoric. "You see, Major Whitlock, I too, was human. I too, called Texas my home. I was a submissive, smitten, God-fearing woman, always minding my place in society. God didn't mind _me_, though. He left me to die," her face grew hard and she clenched her fists. "The only thing that got me through those hellish three days was the thought that this was God's final test--my murder would be avenged and I would be saved and accepted into God's Grace." She spit. "I digress. The heart of it is that you were changed into what you are now for a purpose. Aren't you greatful? Now you finally have one." I proceeded to go into a speech about the importance of the Confederate army and the preservation of tradition when the cackling started up again. "My, my, haven't you realized by now? Human quarrels are beneath you. They are no longer of your concern. You are to be a part of a much larger war, and become a player in a game that has longer-standing traditions."

"What _am_ I?" I was getting impatient.

This momentarily gave her pause as she tried to come up with the title that would be most likely to inspire awe. She frowned, unsatisfied, and settled on the most widely-recognized in my part of the world, "_You_..._We_...are _vampires_." She paused for dramatic effect, and I, in my young self-importance, asked the question that was foremost on the tip of my tongue.

"Why me?"

"If you're planning to take back by force land that rightfully belongs to you...who better to help lead your hand-picked army, than a charismatic soldier?" She shrugged. I considered briefly. This was my chance to be a part of something worthy of my strategic skill. A supernatural battle against things larger than myself. Now, I'm sure there are those who would hold my lack of skepticism in contempt--but they aren't vampires, so they hardly matter at this point.

I grinned and held out my hand, "Pleasure to meet you--" I cocked my head inquisitively.

She grasped my hand, "Maria."

"Jasper."

"Welcome to my world, Jasper. Now let's eat."


End file.
